


The time between 3 am and 4

by moonsfall



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Domestic ? ish fluff, Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29002512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsfall/pseuds/moonsfall
Summary: Keonhee wakes up at 3 A.M, when time feels as though it's stopped, like the world isn't spinning anymore.
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Lee Keonhee
Comments: 13
Kudos: 54





	The time between 3 am and 4

**Author's Note:**

> Lol I haven't written in forever please don't bully the shite out of me this was smth that just popped into my head

His body pushed itself up on its own, a sweat creeping down his neck. The hairs stood on end, remnants of a nightmare just ghosting the crevices of his brain. Blinking the sleep out and away from his eyes, Keonhee smacked around the bunk for his phone. It lit up as it was lifted, partially blinding the poor soul as 3:03 glared back. A pout sincerely resembling a scowl drew itself across his features as he pulled himself out of his bunk.

Working as quietly as possible, Keonhee tucked his feet onto the ladder and snuck down onto floor level. Squinting and meekly trying to adjust his eyesight, he sought out a much more comfortable place to sleep.

Waking up any member was no easy task, some choosing to welcome whoever it may be that woke them with an array of reactions. Biting, punching, gasping, screaming. Any of those weren’t particularly welcome at 3 in the morning. Finally, with a target locked, Keonhee shuffled his socked feet over the creaky dorm room floors towards Youngjo’s half of the bunk. The least likely to kick him out and back to his bed in favor of rolling around for the rest of the night.

Softly feeling around the mattress, cold fingers traced over Youngjo’s far warmer arm and squeezed. 

The freezing touch alone shook him out of his deep sleep, and croaking a bit, “Is it time to get up?” Youngjo whispered.

Guilt pricked at the corners of Keonhee’s heart for disturbing his little hours of rest, “Ah—no actually I just woke up,” he shifted on his feet, the floor creaked, “—was a nightmare but it’s okay really,” his lips felt so dry all of a sudden, “I’m sorry for waking you up.” Keonhee mumbled a few more ‘am sorrys before trying to flee from the scene. 

A burning grip wrapped around his wrist and tugged a bit, forcing him to stumble, socks sliding on the floor, to look back at soft sleep-ridden eyes. “Is okay,” Youngjo’s voice was too hoarse, “come here.” Another tug, the grip not letting go. Mentally debating the pro’s and con’s for what seemed like centuries to them, Keonhee accepted the now empty space in front of him.

He slid his feet under the covers, which felt like a furnace, and tucked his long body in front of the other.

Cat-like and very warm, Youngjo swung a leg straight over Keonhee’s hips and pulled him flush against his chest. Forehead pressed up against his nape, Keonhee could hear the man whispering soft words, almost like a spell, into his shoulder blades. Probably to make him feel better, or to lull himself to sleep, or honestly both. Everything about the situation was calming but Keonhee’s heart was hammering around in his chest. Suffocating— kind of hard to breathe suddenly— like he was trapped.

He really wasn’t, but the tingling feeling coming from his stomach and creeping up into his heart and nestling itself there didn’t help.

He set himself up, put himself into his situation with no assistance from anyone but his own sleep-scrambled brain. The bed was so warm, so comfortable, and with someone practically purring against his back it was the perfect combination for sleep. The arm wrapping itself around his waist and halfway up his shirt, the scorching hot hand resting on his abdomen, was not. The warm, even breathing against his neck, sending chills up and down his spine as if someone chose to play the xylophone with his vertebrae, also was not.

The consistent fluttering in his chest making it as though he was choking on the feathers of the poor bird locked in his ribcage, the one banging around making such a ruckus so late at night. Bordering on a dangerous situation, bordering on something they've never touched on, never dipped their toes into that ice-cold water, made the bird scream out in fear and pain.

Keonhee was tall, that much was obvious, but suddenly being folded in half like a lawn chair and man-handled into the little spoon position at 3 in the morning made him feel as if he was something precious too. Something worth treasuring, even if it was for a split second, a longing touch or a whisper to the shell of his ear. Youngjo’s hands grabbing at his stomach and shirt—kneading little biscuits just like a cat— made him feel warm and fuzzy, spreading soft tingles.

Playing with the warm fingers grabbing and grasping at his front, his shoulders slowly started to roll out and relax, less aware of where he was and what situation was unraveling between the two of them. To think it was safe was his mistake because as soon as Keonhee felt able to properly dispel the nervousness and fluttering in his heart, Youngjo flipped him around to face himself. Pulled him closer at that, his hand tangling in the long strands of hair by the nape of Keonhee’s neck.

Almost forcefully pushing his head onto his chest, so the echoing of his heart beating inside his ribs was the only real thing Keonhee could hear in their cramped room. All he could smell was their shared body wash and traces of their events earlier in the day despite the searing showers they all took.

It wrapped around him, curling him into a ball, holding onto him with a vice grip that didn't feel so scary anymore, despite what it all meant in the end.

Accepting feelings was hard—was like drowning in an entire lake of ice-cold water— that was quickly seeping into his lungs and pulling every last breath, every bubble of air out and replacing it with the lake's contents. Choosing to talk about this—to think too hard in fear, shaking hands and clammy palms—later. With Youngjo.

_He swallows hard_

Gradually, white noise and the soft _ba-bump_ of Youngjo’s heart was the last thing he remembers before he’s groggily woken up by snickering. 

“Oh my god—Youngjo sounds like he’s practically purring—I’m gonna be sick.”

“Don’t talk too loud,” _smack,_ “you’ll wake them up and then I can’t get my pictures.”

The shuttering of a camera made Keonhee’s face twitch. The partial regret from last night came spilling into his mind, and he groaned. Pushing closer towards the warmth, Keonhee tucked his face right into the crook of Youngjo’s neck and stayed there.

Sounds of gagging filled the room, and a few more clicks went off.

Mumbling, the arms around him tightening, and then suddenly Youngjo was awake. His voice was as hoarse as it was earlier that night, “What’s going on—Dongju why is your phone camera right in my face,” hair tickled his chin and pricked at his nose as he grasped the situation, “get out.”

Dongju and Seoho’s skin skidded against the wood, the pattering of their feet along the floor getting quieter the faster they ran.

Tucking the hair falling in Keonhee’s face behind his ear, he cupped his cheek. “Keonhee,” _pat pat_ , “Keon it’s time to get up,” he traced the bridge of Keonhee’s nose with a feather light touch, “Keonhee please wake up so I can chase them.”

“—mmm no,” he shifts closer, “‘m warm.” Fingers dig into his sides but rather than tickling and smothering him in the blankets like he’s used to, they pull him closer. And closer, and closer until all he can smell is remnants of cologne and safety.

An expel of hot air from his nose, his muscles relaxing back into the warmth soaked blankets, “I’ll just flush the toilet a few times while they shower later then,” Youngjo muffles into the crown of his hair, pulling him even impossibly closer.

The protective arms around his waist, and the one cradling the back of his head, become a warm constant weight as they both fall back asleep.


End file.
